


Toward a Psychology of Being

by zinke



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Bones (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Post-Series (BSG)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-07
Updated: 2009-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well we are taking about the mother of all humanity here, Bones. She's bound to have one or two secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toward a Psychology of Being

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the original idea for this story goes to nnaylime who ~~ordered~~ requested that I take her idea and run with it: _write my insane Bones/BSG crossover, which involved Brennan doing research on the 'Eve' bones that were in the finale. There was an underlying issue of Brennan's faith in science vs. Booth's faith in God and also finding other bones in that settlement that didn't match the DNA of current humans and a few artifacts that showed technological advance that shouldn't have been present._ Hopefully, I ran in the direction she was envisioning.
> 
> I am in no way an evolutionary biologist, archaeologist, or paleoanthropologist; which means that it is not only possible but highly probable the science as presented in this story is not 100% accurate.
> 
> The story's title comes from the writings of psychologist Abraham H. Maslow.
> 
> Thanks go, as always, to my intrepid beta caz963 who has stuck with me no matter which fandom I happen to stumble into; and to caitrin for offering her much appreciated Bones-centric perspective.

"Knock, knock," Booth calls out with a genial smile as he ambles without hesitation into her office. "You got that report ready for me yet, Bones? Caroline's chomping at the bit to get this one put away." His smile falters somewhat at the lack of discernable reaction from the woman seated behind the desk. "Bones?"

From his vantage point just inside the doorway, Booth spots the glossy, tell-tale shine of forensic photographs interspersed amongst the various papers spread across the desktop. Though her head is bowed, keeping him from reading her expression, it's more than clear that whatever Brennan is reading is something more than the usual fare. "Whatcha got there?"

She mumbles something incomprehensible in response and waggles her hand in a half-hearted shooing motion. Several more seconds pass in silence, until finally Booth's patience – and amusement at the situation – runs out. "Bones!"

Brennan's head snaps up in response. "You don't have to shout at me," she complains peevishly.

"Apparently I do," he replies as he makes his way across the room, coming to a stop on the far side of the desk. Reaching out, he picks up one of the pieces of paper scattered across the surface. "New case?" After several seconds of futile study, he makes a show of turning the sheet upside-down and squinting at the lines of close-set type which fill the page.

"Not exactly," Brennan replies with a degree of impatience as she plucks the document from his fingers and carefully returns it to its original place on the desk. "A colleague asked for my opinion on several sets of prehistoric human remains recently uncovered in Tanzania."

"Your highly regarded, _expert_ opinion," he teases with an impish grin as he takes something else – a photograph this time – from the pile. "Hey, I've heard about this," he says, pointing at the image in his hand.

Brennan takes this item from him as well and, rising from her chair, begins to gather the papers and photos into a tidy pile. "How?" she asks dubiously as she slides the collected documents into a well-worn file.

"There was an article about it in last month's _National Geographic_ ," Booth explains with a shrug as he sinks into one of the visitors chairs. Looking up a moment later, he's surprised to find Brennan watching him with a blatantly disbelieving expression. "My doctor keeps it in the waiting room."

"That article was hardly a thorough summation of the facts; its purpose was more for entertainment than education or the facilitation of genuine scientific discourse."

"So what are you saying? That the writers at _Nat Geo_ made all that stuff about Metrocandial Eve up?"

"Mitochondrial. And they didn't make things up exactly; but as one of the most widely-recognized scientific publications in the world, they were acting irresponsibly by drawing premature conclusions based on incomplete information."

"And this colleague asked for your help in setting the record straight?"

"Yes; though from what little I've been able to review thus far, I don't know that I'm going to be able to provide much assistance."

"Why's that?"

"Because," she begins as she opens the thick file and runs her finger along the margin of the first page inside, "the data Dr. Stringer and his team have collected makes absolutely no sense."

"Well we _are_ taking about the mother of all humanity here, Bones. She's bound to have one or two secrets."

"It's inaccurate to say that Mitochondrial Eve is the lone female progenitor of all humanity. She's merely the most recent common matrilineal ancestor of all human beings living today."

"And that's different from what I said…how, exactly?"

"Mitochondrial DNA is passed solely from mother to child; it's not altered in any way by the paternal genetic material. In essence, every Homo sapiens living on Earth today can trace some part of their genetic ancestry back to this specific individual by means of the maternal line. But one, two, maybe five hundred years from now that will no longer be the case."

"Why not?"

"Humans die. Eventually the direct genetic link between this woman and modern man will die, too and another, more recent ancestor will replace her."

"So if Metrocandial—"

"Mitochondrial."

"—Eve is nothing more than some fancy, scientific but ultimately superficial title, then why is she," he says, pointing across the desk at the photograph of a skull, "so important?"

"Are you kidding? The potential scientific implications of the information gathered from these remains are incredibly far-reaching. Evolutionary theory, genetics, anthropology, sociology; the assumptions and theories on which these disciplines are built could all be irrevocably altered by whatever conclusions are made as the result of this discovery."

"But no one's going to be learning anything about anything unless you and Dr. Stringer can make sense of all this."

"I'm sorry to say it, but yes."

Booth considers her statement in silence for several seconds; then suddenly his lips split into an eager grin. "Maybe I can help," he says with a grunt as he props his feet on the corner of her desk.

"Thank you, but no."

"C'mon Bones; we're partners. We help each other solve things."

"This isn't a murder investigation."

"No, but maybe I'll be able to use my well-honed deductive reasoning skills to help you see something you've missed."

"Booth—"

"What can it hurt? Really?"

Brennan takes in his earnest expression, eventually sinking down into her chair with a resigned sigh. Booth's feet drop to the floor with a thunk in response to her wordless acquiescence; leaning forward, he rubs his hands together theatrically in anticipation. "Okay, hit me."

She regards him quizzically. "Why would I want to do that?"

"It's…you know what? Never mind. You said earlier that Dr. Stringer's data didn't make sense."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't." Leaning forward, Brennan leafs through the contents of the file until she's found the page she is looking for, then turns the file towards him. "See this? In addition to the remains Dr. Stringer has identified as belonging to Mitochondrial Eve, his team has found the ossified bones of several other distinct individuals. DNA sequencing and radiocarbon dating suggests that these two individuals," she says, flipping the page to reveal a sheet of x-ray film trisected by a ladder-like set of dark smudges, "were likely to have been Mitochondrial Eve's biological parents."

"Wait; I thought that people back then were supposed to have been nomadic?"

"They were."

"So…she died at the same time as her parents?"

"It's unlikely. The findings seem to indicate that she outlived her parents by several decades."

"Then how do you explain a family burial plot?"

"I can't. It contradicts everything we know about Mesolithic-era culture and society. But what's even more perplexing is that the mother's remains have traces of silica deep within the bone structure."

"That's not from something as simple as having been buried in the dirt for thousands of years?"

"No; it appears to be part of the molecular composition of the bone itself."

"And no one else has ever seen anything like this before?"

"In the course of their research, Dr. Stringer's team did find reference to a set of remains found in southern Denmark in the early 1920's which were reported to have had similar properties. But the findings were dismissed by leading scientists of the time as being nothing more than a hoax."

"And here I thought Chris Carter made all that alien conspiracy stuff up."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

" _The X-Files_ , Bones. Mulder and Scully? Colossal government cover-up? Alien bounty hunters living among us in secret?"

"Science fiction's portrayal of extra terrestrials is wholly inaccurate. If intelligent alien life does exist, it almost certainly looks nothing like us."

"My point," Booth replies steadily, "is that I didn't think it was possible for a living thing to be made out of silicon."

"It isn't. Silicon does occur naturally in animals, but only in minute traces. The silica concentrations in these remains are much higher than would be found in any known species on Earth."

"Please tell me that half-baked surfer couldn't have actually been _right_."

"Of course not. The probability of other, intelligent species such as our own existing within our universe, let alone that of one of them being technologically advanced enough to have developed space travel _and_ having the good fortune to stumble upon this planet out of the billions of others in our galaxy, is extremely low."

"But not impossible."

Brennan closes her eyes for a beat and sighs impatiently. "Statistically speaking, it _is_ feasible. But aside from the unusual silica concentrations in the bone, there is no evidence to suggest this individual was anything but human."

"Maybe it's not really science _fiction_ after all," Booth suggests with a mischievous grin.

"You honestly believe that aliens landing on Earth over one-hundred and fifty thousand years ago and interbreeding with the human population is a sound, logical explanation for the biological anomalies that have been found?"

"No, I don't. But once you've run out of logical conclusions, don't you ever just want to…take a guess? Throw caution to the wind and entertain the notion that the impossible answer might be more plausible than either you or science can prove?"

"I don't see how that sort of speculation would be constructive."

"C'mon Bones, just play along for once, will you? You might learn something."

She regards him suspiciously for several moments before nodding her assent. Booth watches with interest as she considers the proposed scenario. "Why would these aliens of yours have bothered to come to Earth at all? Let alone decide to settle here?"

"This happens to be a pretty nice planet."

"In comparison to the others in our solar system, yes. What I was alluding to was the illogicality of a technologically advanced species choosing to abandon their home in favor of living amongst a people considerably less advanced than themselves."

"Maybe they didn't have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, Bones; things happen. Global warming. Nuclear war. Genocide."

"So, what you're proposing is that they were refugees."

"Exactly. Maybe staying on Earth and blending in with the locals was the only option they had left."

Brennan narrows her eyes as she mulls over his words. "Okay then, if the aliens did decide to settle here, where are their spaceships?" she asks, flashing him a triumphant grin.

"Blending in, Bones. Spaceships, phasers, medicine, toothbrushes; all of it would have had to go."

"But if they were in fact refugees as you've postulated, then choosing to abandon any advantages that would have increased the likelihood of their continued existence as a species would have been completely irrational."

"Maybe there was more at stake for these people than simple survival."

"Like what?"

"Surviving isn't necessarily the same thing as _living_ , Bones."

Brennan's expression grows increasing puzzled as she considers his words. "Maslow's hierarchy of needs differentiates between seeking only the basic, physiological needs of the body and striving for the apex of psychological self-actualization. His theory is premised on the fact that to realize the latter one first must secure the means to achieve the former."

"Trust you to try and boil something philosophical down to a scientific theory. But that's not what I'm saying…except, it is. Sort of." Scrubbing a hand over his face, Booth leans forward and gazes intently at Brennan. "Living – the actual moment to moment _experience_ of it – isn't something you can quantify or explain using an equation or a diagram. It's something you _feel_."

"Feel? How?"

"Instincts, intuition – _feelings_ , Bones. _Emotions_. It's not only about following them but _trusting_ them. It's knowing that what you're doing is right not because logic says so but because you feel it here," Booth says, pressing a closed fist to his abdomen, "and here," he adds a moment later, bringing that same hand to rest over his heart. "You'd be amazed how far something like that can carry a person."

Brennan shifts slightly in her seat, looking decidedly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. Dropping her gaze to the open file spread before her, she begins flipping purposefully through the contents. "There…were several artifacts also found at the site." She removes a smaller photograph and after considering the image for a moment hands it to him. "The precision of the hexagonal shape and the straightness of the edges are far too exact to have been made by any known tool used by Neolithic man. What's more, Dr. Stringer's team has been unable to identify the metallic alloy of which it is composed."

Booth cocks his head slightly as he studies the picture. "You know, this puncture mark here looks wide enough to thread something through – like a cord or a length of chain."

"You think someone wore this? Maybe as a necklace or a pendant?"

"Or dogtags."

"Dogtags?" she asks, looking strangely taken aback by the suggestion.

"Why not? It looks like there may have been some kind of lettering here," he says turning the photograph towards her and pointing to a line of rough, deep scratches above the bottom point of the piece, "maybe it was used as some means of identification."

"Just because you were in the Army doesn't mean that everyone else was, too."

"I'm simply positing a theory here. There's no need to get defensive."

"I'm not being defensive. I just don't think it's at all likely that an army of benevolent, refugee aliens were led to Earth by some sort of mystical, grand purpose, landed and subsequently interbred with the human population. It's ludicrous."

"Bones—"

"Not that it matters anyway," she continues dismissively, taking the photograph from him and deliberately slipping it deep into the stack of paper and photos. Looking up, she fixes Booth with a determined stare. "All we've been doing here is indulging in foolish, unfounded speculation. I don't see how it's supposed to be helping me to find the empirical answers Dr. Stringer is relying on me to provide."

"Sometimes the only way to get to the truth is to open your mind and put your faith in something other than what the facts tell you."

"Like what?"

Booth pushes himself out of the chair and gives Brennan a significant parting look before turning for the door. "Yourself," he says simply.

 

*fin.*


End file.
